Hi all, this is a follow up story to Do You Renounce Evil. It takes place roughly five years later. This is a friendship story (no slash).
Disclaimer: Still do not own Sherlock :(
Tissue Warning: minor character death. Please review (please be kind)
Dust to Dust
The noise reverberated along the corridor as the door at the end crashed against the wall, startling the occupant of one of the hard plastic chairs which were lining the walls of the long desolate corridor. Looking up, the curly haired young man saw an older gentleman with greying hair hurry towards himself and his young companion.
'I've just heard, how's Mary?' Greg asked as he strode forward.
Sherlock glanced down at the young child sitting on his lap. The blonde hair, a stark contrast with the dark material of Sherlock's long Belstaff coat. Wrapping his arms more securely around the young boy, he lowered his head and murmured soothingly, hoping that the child would remain asleep as he glared at Greg.
Greg looked across at the boy, his young head resting trustingly against Sherlock's chest, his eyes closed as he slept, whilst Sherlock ran a hand softly up and down the youngster's back in an effort to soothe him, and rested his cheek against the child's head.
'Sorry' whispered Greg softly, 'how is he?'
'How do you think he is? His mother is ... ' Sherlock tried to swallow past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat as he took several deep breaths before continuing. 'John's in there with her, they don't expect her to last much longer.'
Greg fell into the chair beside Sherlock and rubbed his face with his hands as he took in everything Sherlock had said.
Silence descended as they sat and waited, both adults lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly an alarm could be heard coming from the hospital room on the other side of the corridor. The door at the end crashing open once more as three nurses and a doctor rushed past and ran into the private room. An anguished cry resembling that of a wounded animal swiftly followed. Several minutes went by until one by one the medical staff left the room and made their way slowly back along the corridor, their heads hanging in sorrow, Greg and Sherlock watching them silently.
Some time later, no one was sure exactly how long, John appeared in the doorway, his face pale, and his eyes haunted by his loss. Sherlock rose out of his chair, turned to Greg and placed his precious load into Greg's arms, waiting only to ensure that the child was secure before turning back to his oldest friend. Stepping forward, he enveloped John in his long arms, pulling him close to muffle the sound of his sobs. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back and clung to his friend. When John's crying began to lessen, Sherlock tightened his hold for a brief moment, and then released him. John scrubbed his fist across his face, wiping his eyes, and walked over to where Greg was still seated, bending slightly, he lifted his son into his arms and held him tightly.
'I'm here Jamie, Daddy's here.' John whispered to the sleeping child.
The End.
A/N: I know this has probably been done before, so apologies for that but this is my take on it.
